Improbable Hemolysis
by SomeEightTriangler
Summary: Vampires have conquered Earth. Fighting back is next to impossible, given their extremely resilient nature. But, for seemingly no reason at all, a random human woman proves to be more than a match for even the most hardened of vampire warriors. How will the vampires she finds react to her? Could she change their minds about humanity, with nothing but bruised knuckles and will?
1. Chapter 1

I groan tiredly, my phone battery having died just as I was about to open Dimgur. Shifting my arms, I put it ontop of the air dryer I was currently using to dry my pants. 

_Wait, what?_

Figured you'd ask that. 

Spilled beer, a couple of laughs, the lack of money for either laundry or any more beer, and a sarcastic suggestion from a slightly sympathetic bartender pushed me into this four-by-four lame excuse for a restroom. The lightbulb was hanging by a thread from the bare concrete ceiling, while the walls were desperately covered in yellowish white tiles so as to make up for the overall barebones appearance of the "room". The toilet smelled like a very interesting night at Taco Meow, and the sink's was basin coated by a light film of black grime. The floor was a mess of dirt, beer, and little bits of vomit scattered in the corners. 

One of the best restrooms I've been in, lately. 

This wasn't another case of "I live with my parents and don't work", mind you; I had a way better explanation than that junk. 

Vampires. 

I shifted some of my weight to the dirty sink, being careful so as to not detach it from the wall, and began to ponder on how the hell I got where I am right now. 

It was about nine months ago when I became penniless and subsequently homeless, but the real shit dated back a year ago. Everyone had always known they were watching, them, and others, looking to either control us or simply have their own twisted version of "fun" with whatever "mortal" they could find. Nobody thought they'd actually follow through with it, though. 

Simply put, they fucked us hard. Easy to do that when you can lift /three fucking tons/ without sweating. Whatever sembleance of classical vampirism I had in mind vanished the second I saw a vampire, washed over with sun rays from a high-noon, take a fifty cal. to the face and only stumble backwards for a second before ripping the poor grunt a new one. No conventional bullshit seemed to work - garlic was useless. Stakes only annoyed them, like toothpicks. Silver, holy water, all of that did /not work/. 

They were still killable, sure. Decapitation did the job, for as long as you kept the head AWAY from the neck stump. Anything else was a mere inconvenience to them. 

One month in, they had a third of the States under their cliched vampy cloaks. Who would have thought that they'd have infiltrated the government? Nobody, really, 'cause we're all idiots. I have no clue as to how well the rest of the world is faring against them, but it's probably "not swimmingly" at this point. 

Three months in, just as I was preparing to get the hell out of dodge, they decided to fuck around 'covertly' in my city. Let's just say that a presumed prank on their part ended up with my neighborhood being reduced to ashes, and with me being the one found guilty of such catastrophe, /somehow/. 

Maybe I'm just an unlucky bitch. 

I began to move towards Canada, hiking through sewer systems and bribing the few cops who saw me with whatever money I had left from my "old life", or simply outrunning them. It was a good workout. 

Four months in, they had already gotten to the white house. A nation-wide cease fire of sorts was engaged for nothing but a week before we started thrashing against the cages of our new vampiric overlords like animals. Wasn't pleasant to watch the media try talk about it. 

Fast-forward the remaining eight months, and you have... normalcy. They weren't slaughtering us like livestock (as far as the media covered) and they weren't imposing many harsh laws against us. Vampires integrated openly in the economy, and whatever humans were left off the hook got back to their daily lives - with twists, of course - and everything seemed to be going well. 

Was it? 

It fucking was. 

Can't say the same for myself, though. I still had a bounty on my head for supposedly burning my entire neighborhood to the ground with an invisible matchstick (the bounty hunters themselves acknowledged that they knew I didn't do shit, but tried to get me anyways) and I had no relatives, no friends, no contacts, no resources. Nada. 

...except for a cellphone with a charger, worn clothes, a pocket knife, and whatever pride I had left. 

Not much, by the way. 

I turned my attention from my own thoughts to the noises I was hearing from behind the door. Muffled grunts, shouts, glass and wood breaking. It /was/ a pub, and a sketchy one at that, so I decided to chalk up a bar fight to my "Don't care" list and carry on with drying my fucking pants in an eye roll. Wasn't long after that I heard a gunshot from whatever rusty double-barrel the locals had pierce the monotony of a fight they had going on there. I was curious, now. This was serious shit, either beef from the local gangs or something else entirely. Now that I think about it, it /could/ be that rusty double-barrel the bartender had behind the counter. 

That is a possibility. 

Not moving from my spot, I continued to listen for the fight outside. Nothing but more generic bar fight noises sounded until someone's pained scream sounded loudly, almost as if there was no door separating pantless me from bar-fighting them. I doubted any of the thugs I'd seen earlier would have sounded off a noise like that, even if they were in distress. I shuffled in place, still not moving as I heard the commotion outside get more intense, until it abruptly stopped. Nothing but the sound of the air dryer next to me was reaching my ears. 

At that point I had gotten my pants away from the dryer and struggled to hear any footsteps outside. And hear I did. 

They were wearing sneakers (who the fuck wears sneakers to a massacre?), judging by the noise. More than a pair of calculated footsteps emanated ever closer to my hiding place, almost as if they were teasing me. I rolled my eyes at their subtletly. 

As the sounds died down again, I could count at least four people outside by the time which their footsteps died down. I was staring, holding my (now dry!) pants in my grasp as I waited for their move. 

But nothing happened. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute. They just stood there. I suppressed a scoff and strained my ears to hear what they were doing, and I could hear hushed whispers and exchanges. Didn't really make a lot of sense, but hey, life is unpredictable. 

And then they defied logic itself by simply knocking on the fucking door. It was a calm, hesitant knock, almost as if they wished to use the potty themselves. Before I could react, an equally hesitant voice sounded from the other side. It was a woman's, and judging by the lack of an even remotely frightened undertone, she had took part in the deed of silencing everyone else in the establishment. 

"You okay in there?" 

I didn't answer, choosing instead to noisily put my pants back on, letting the sound clue her in, shaking my head. 

She spoke again a couple of seconds later, just as I had gotten to the zipper. "...you were on the toilet during all of this?" She asked, confused and slightly exasperated. 

I made a slow, yet grand spectacle of zipping up. 

"Look, I know that you're scared, but we won't hurt you, alright? Just unlock the door, please." 

My previous disposition had already morphed into my usual one as I brushed away the effects of her rather impressively compelling domination spell, quickly realizing I was dealing with professionals. Deciding to humor her, I casually straightened my shoulder-length hair, pocketed my cellphone, and took slow steps towards the door. It only took two, so it wasn't as dramatic as I'd hoped. 

Seeing as how the vampire didn't speak again, I sighed, scrunching up my face as usual and turning the lock, and then the knob itself as the door opened inside the already ludicrously small restroom. Peeking out from behind it, I gathered sight of four (nailedit) relatively young, yet stoical vampires, two male and two female. They were all wearing casual clothes, as usual; the woman I spoke to wore a thin gray hoodie, black pants, and sneakers. I didn't pay the others any mind as I stared deep into her eyes as soon as I could, my "How ya doin'?" expression full on, with a hint of annoyance to spice it up. 

It was fucking priceless to watch her previously curious glowing crimson-red eyes widen, and her jaw utterly hit the fucking floor. She knew of me, apparently. 

She was pretty, to be honest. Long, pitch-black hair, pale complexion that every vampire seems to have, that charming youngish upper-class air about her. But all of that mattered nothing as her current expression almost made me laugh out loud at her perplexed fright. 

Raising an eyebrow at her, with the sassiest, cruelest smirk I could muster, I spoke in a perfectly even tone, with hints of amusement. 

"The maid, huh?" I chuckled as condescendingly as I could. "You'd better come on in, this place is an absolute /mess/." 

Before she could react, I shot a hand out and grabbed her collar, throwing her in the tiny bathroom, screaming, with me, and slamming the door behind myself. She immediately tried to fight back with her lightning-quick reflexes, but I wasn't all that bad at catfighting, anticipating her moves. Her friends were too stunned to react to this, apparently, as I detected no attempts to breach the door yet. Her strength did nothing to help her as I pressed my arms against her smooth throat, squeezing tightly whenever she tried to pry my arms off her and then lifting her off the ground. Holding her in a half-hearted chokehold a five year old could have gotten out of, I decided to introduce myself in the most harmless way I could imagine - to a vampire, that is. 

And that, friends, is how I snapped the neck of a three-ton-lifting, bullet-quick, trauma-proof immortal.


	2. Chapter 2

I kept running, my legs starting to burn from exhaustion as I went deeper into the forest. Behind me, I could still hear the police sirens ringing continuously on a loop. From what I had just done, I figured more SWAT would be coming shortly. Adjusting the rifle's strap around myself, I took a minute to focus on my surroundings as I ran. No footsteps other than mine could be heard, and that was just perfect.

I couldn't have known it was a routine patrol, could I? They weren't just kids, sure, I knew that, but I didn't expect them to be enforcers.

Some normal cops were there, coupled with SWAT. Enforcers must have intercepted them mid-patrol and decided to lend a hand. Not unusual; they liked to show off a little bit. Still, I guess I should give them some credit for handling the bar thugs so well.

Hmm? Oh, yeah. Enforcers are tough, but simple. Basically, they are the vampirical equivalents of the FBI.

I ran until I couldn't hear the sirens anymore. I slumped against a random tree, sliding to the ground as I panted heavily, regaining a bit of stamina. Calming my breathing for a moment, I looked down at the heavy-caliber rifle I currently had strapped around my shoulder. Cursing discreetly, I began to disassemble the rifle and bury the parts in the dirt, covering them up completely.

It wasn't necessarily bad that it was so dark I could barely see what I was doing. It only meant they couldn't see what they were doing, too, right? That line of thought cheered me up for a single second until I remembered that the police had flashlights, and the enforcers could simply see in the dark. Which was /perfect/. I was majorly disadvantaged if they found me now.

Having hidden the rifle, I got up, covered my tracks, and immediately headed north. I had a pretty basic knowledge of these woods, so if was correct, I'd arrive near home in about an hour or so of walking. /Perfect/.

* * *

An emotionless voice sounded through the radio. "Cesterfield-two, this is Tower. Report."

The voice of a woman responded. It was young and hoarse, fatigued. "Tower, C-Cesterfield-two. We have... had, contact with Maddox during a coordinated sweep, over."

"Was she apprehended, Cesterfield-two?" Inquired the voice, a noticeable edge to it.

"Negative, T-Tower. She-" A hacking cough came from the woman as she spoke. It took a few seconds for her to continue. "-got us, and the entire detachment of humans, over."

Silence reigned on the frequency for several seconds until the voice spoke again, bitter-sweetly. "At least we have her location..." A sigh escapes the voice. "You did good, Sam. Get back here, I'll warn HQ about this." At a sudden impulse, he spoke again. "What about the others?"

"...we're all fine, don't worry. The humans got the worst of it, but no casualties." 'Sam' coughed again, massaging her throat. "She got her hands on one of their rifles. SWAT couldn't even enter the building."

"Shit." He had abandoned radio protocol by now. He didn't care. "Just get back here, alright? We'll deal with her later."

"W-We're on our way..."

* * *

I placed the large concrete block in place with a huff, adjusting it so it fit in with the rest. I felt pretty damn relieved that I finally made it back "home". Turning to look at the bare, dusty and dark concrete room I had accommodated myself in, I located the couch and promptly fell on it. The worn-out springs creaked under my weight as the cracked leather tickled my face. Moving over to a sitting position after several moments of wanting to die, patting my clothes for good measure, I got to work on finding bullet holes or deadened wounds.

Just as I was examining my bruised arms, my phone vibrated inside its pocket. Taking it out and sliding my thumb across the call button absent-mindedly, I continued to study my wounds while speaking simultaneously. "Find anything?" Was my half-expectant, half-knowing reply.

A deep male voice came from the other end of the call. He sounded old, but not unable, and had a bad case of smoker's lung. "You should know by now, brat. They don't care about what you did, they care about what you're doin'."

I wonder if I'll ever get on good terms with this guy. "Did it hit the news that fast?"

"'Course it fucking did, you woke up two separate neighborhoods, as if burnin' one wasn't enough. P.D's piss-drunk-mad at you for roughing up their boys, and the lads are startin' to get an itch for the shit you can do."

Rolling my eyes at the last bit, I spoke again. "And the enforcers?"

"Quiet. I dunno how bad you done 'em in this time, but it sure made them shut the fuck up. They did say you were involved but didn't talk about anythin' else." From his tone, I figured he was either smiling or grinning. "Pleasure doin' business with you on that end, brat. I'd say they're gettin' something ready just, and I really mean /just/, for you."

"I can see how you would 'appreciate' that." I laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Good evening, Francis."

I heard him snort and ramble a quick "Yeah yeah, whatever, brat." before I hung up.

Glancing at the rest of my completely empty room, illuminated by a single lightbulb, I let my head fall back on the couch as I sighed and rested for a few minutes.

And then I sat up in a rather straightforward manner, reached behind the couch and hoisted a filled duffel bag up and onto my back, getting up and heading for the exit. I still had shit to do, after all. 

* * *

It was a quiet night, with no one walking the streets at all, and a dulling chill piercing my clothes. The buildings which housed different kinds of storefronts were all dark, except for one. A single door with a wall-fixated light on top of it, with no markings or letters of any kind except for the address number. There was an intercom attached to the wall beside the door, and my hand reached said intercom almost immediately after reaching it. Without hesitating, I spoke two simple words. "Courier service."

It wasn't long after that the door opened, a tall, muscular guard clutching a pistol looking down at me. He wore a simple black shirt that greatly enhanced his muscles, and his bald head featured a pair of piercing green eyes on his robust face. He had an eyebrow cocked at me.

"Hmm. Not very discreet, are you?" He grumbled my way in his surprisingly smooth and deep voice. "I watched the news fifteen minutes ago."

Shrugging up at him, I motioned backwards with my head. "I don't do discreet. Not with the enforcers, at least."

He examined me up and down, and after frowning his thick eyebrows, finally moved to the side so I could walk in. It was a simple room with decaying paint, four chairs queued against the wall, and another door which was made of metal. The guard spoke again, already heading to sit down on one of the chairs. "They'll want to check the bag, so make sure to warn them first if you're carrying explosives." He crossed his arms and leaned back on the chair, eyeing me with the same hard frown as before.

I nodded, dispensing a quick "Thanks." to the guard as I knocked on the metal door. This one opened almost immediately, two heavily-equipped guards with ski masks and dark goggles hiding their heads. Both carried fully-automatic rifles, had holstered pistols, and batons clipped to their belts. No distinctive insignia or markings were apparent in their uniform.

The one to my left pointed to the floor a couple of feet in front of me, and so I walked inside the corridor. Wasn't much different from the small room, except it had no chairs, and the gray paint was spotless. After they were done checking me and my bag, they sent me on my way to the end of the corridor to yet another metal door. With a hard knock, I waited for it to open.

The room was immense and heavily decorated, very much like a mansion. Crowds of people, both vampire and human, filled the floor, becoming denser the further into the room they were. All were of a shady nature, with some having fake laughs with their "friends" while others openly disputed staring contests with their nemeses. I could easily spot over five faces from the news just by glancing around.

Squeezing my way through the clusters of assorted criminals, I approached an empty booth at the far end of the room. A man in an expensive Italian suit sat behind a panel of bulletproof glass, staring at his cell phone in a bored manner until he saw me. His eyebrows quickly perked along with the tips of his mouth as he examined me up and down.

"Ah, yes, it's about time someone came to me today! Nothing ever happens in this boring town, nowadays." His thick British accent did not match his script at all. "But I'm sure you don't want to waste time with pleasantries, am I right?" He pointed to the slot in the right side of the glass panel. Without much ceremony, I unslung my duffel bag and slid it into the slot, the bag stopping right by the man's eager hand as he reached for it and dumped it in front of him.

It wasn't long after he had started rummaging through the bag before he looked back at me, a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Shame that friend of yours had their things borrowed by the police, wasn't it? I'm glad you got them back" Keeping my expression neutral, I allowed a faint shrug to pass while waiting for his offer.

"I'll give you twenty grand if you allow me to have the pleasure of returning this to them," he said with gusto. "Our way."

Raising an eyebrow at him as if he had told a particularly weird joke, I replied. "Twenty-five. He really liked that heroin, you know. I'm sure you can get twice my price back from him."

He chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. "Is that so?" came his sarcastic reply. "Hm. You're new, and we're nice, so maybe I can cover your offer."

He put on a set of plastic gloves, removed the packages from the bag and dispensed them inside a metal drawer he had opened. He whistled to himself while opening what could be loosely described as a cash register crossed with a safe, revealing the reckless quantity of money stuffed inside. Removing bundles of money at once, he deposited them in my recently-emptied duffel bag. It was filled with money by the time he finished, closing the bag with a quick zip and locking the 'cash register' with his elbow. Sliding the bag back to me through the slot, he smiled unlike a bank attendant.

"Just promise me that you won't forget how utterly nice we are anytime soon, yes?" He laughed, piercing me with his stare. "That would be most disrespectful on your part."

Rolling my eyes and nodding, I gave him a quick look while I put on my duffel bag. He laughed a bit more, shaking his head again at my apparent naiveté. "Know what you're doing? Very well, then." Motioning with his hand that I was good to go, he closed our exchange with a polite but questionable "Have a pleasant evening, ma'am."


End file.
